


Pine away for your better years

by aggravain



Category: Arthurian Literature - Fandom, Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Gen, Nonbinary Character, gonna be real i have no clue how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24752467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aggravain/pseuds/aggravain
Summary: The inherent tragedy of Hector de Maris.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Pine away for your better years

**Author's Note:**

> this is pretentious and dumb YES i know this but mostly it was an excuse to think about hector and force other people think about hector too (in not essay format).
> 
> i cant actually say why i used they/them for hector but it stuck and now i cant use anything else for some reason. hectors nb now.
> 
> titles from better not wake the baby by the decemberists. a bop.

Two siblings sat on opposing ends of a lavish bed, neither daring to break the wary silence the distance formed between them. The eldest shot a glance at the heavy morning light pouring through the gap in the partially drawn curtain and shifted slightly on the edge. The other continued to stare holes into their open palms, wondering softly if this is what the stigmata felt like. 

“It's been years, I’m glad you're doing alright.” 

“You too. Happy to see you haven't gotten yourself killed.” 

The two returned to the awkward pause. A dead end. One made a mental note of how the other shut down at the off hand phrase. Death was too real, too physical to indulge in these liminal hours. 

_ I used to hear stories of you. _

The youngest finally ripped their eyes from their mind-made wound. 

_ How even in the dark, you would shine. _

The light in the window dimmed with a passing cloud. One pondered the chance of a storm. 

_ How I should aspire to be you, whose brightness could overtake a room without effort. _

They both looked at anything but each other. The room was painfully empty. 

_ Where is that now? The candle dims with every passing day. We need you. _

The youngest twisted to face their body towards their brother, backlit by the golden implication of morning. 

They thought about their cousins. 

He thought about his brothers. 

_ I need you.  _

_ We didn't make these walls between us, we still can fix this. _

They both knew it was a pretty lie. 

_ Make up for lost time, finally say all the things I wish I could as a child hearing of your glory. _

_ Maybe we could be those children again. _

_ I dreamt of that once. _

The youngest fingered their wound as they turned back to watch the door. 

The eldest mourned the loss. 

He stood to walk towards the window. The embers started to coat the room in the orange that too strongly reminded him of the reason they were here in the first place. He bit down nausea and gently tugged open the curtain to fill the void.

They felt like the door should have opened hours ago. How was it a king could sit undisturbed for so long when a war was at hand. Sunrise seemed like a lifetime ago, the birds had long gone quiet, how late truly was it? 

_ For what it's worth, I'm sorry. _

_ I should have been there for you. Always. _

_ I was always too late, too weak, too cowardly. _

_ Even now as death sits at the gate I can't even say what I mean. _

_ I understand.  _

_ Were all going to die.  _

_ I know.  _

_ I’ve mourned you before.  _

_ The idea, the concept, the one I had only heard of, dreamed of.  _

_ Now I will have to learn to mourn again.  _

The oldest turned from the window to stare at his sibling still focused on the door. The sun slowly overtook the shadows of the bare room, coating the younger in a halo of warm color. 

_ How is it in all the time we spent trying to find each other, we only grew further apart? _

_ Logres is vast.  _

The youngest itched the holes in their palms and rose out of the warmth of the light. 

_ Through all the kidnappings, the strife, the trauma, the war.  _

_ Why does it still feel wrong to say your name? _

_ To take it in vain seems sacrilege.  _

_ We were through it together yet so far apart.  _

_ Why? _

The eldest wondered idly how long it would take to find them here. How long they could hide from the destruction he had brought back with him to the castle. He couldn't bear to look back out the window at the shadow of war on the walls. 

_ He’ll be back tomorrow.  _

_ He always is.  _

The youngest moved to flee. The castle wasn't big, but who would notice their meager presence. They were stopped by a hand on their shoulder. 

_ It's not too late.  _

_ Surrender isn’t an option anymore, we're too far gone.  _

_ That's not what I meant.  _

They both met each other's eyes for the first time. Two lonely children stared back at each other. 

_ He’s going to kill us.  _

_ He’s going to kill all of us.  _

_ Bors, Lionel, you, me.  _

_ We never even had a chance.  _

_ At connecting. _

_ At winning.  _

The oldest collapsed back onto the bed. The youngest continued to pace, hands wringing. 

_ There should have been more time.  _

_ It wouldn’t have solved anything.  _

_ It would have made this hurt less.  _

The youngest sat softly on the bed, folding their hands neatly under them to avoid making the wounds worse. 

_ It would have made the fact we couldn’t break down this division even more painful.  _

The morning light softened to a shade of white and filled the mostly empty room. A soft knock echoed in the silence. The oldest took a shaky breath and moved towards the door. The youngest thought they should be mourning the death of this moment. Mostly they just felt empty. 

A smile greeted them both through the opening of the doorway. It quickly soured in the quiet. 

“Everything alright in here?”

The oldest hummed. 

“Fine, thank you Lionel.” 

“Lance, you can tell me if anythings wrong.” The other man shot a quizzical glance at the youngest. 

“We were just strategizing it… it's okay. What do you need.” 

Lionel made a face. “It's sunrise, Bors sent me to find you for breakfast. Seems like Arthur’s fucking  _ hound _ is taking a break for the moment, best to enjoy the silence while you can. Now c’mon. De Maris you better come too.”

“We’ll be right there, thank you.” 

Lionel shrugged and sauntered off down the hall to meet with his brother. 

The siblings stared at each other for hours before the youngest pushed themself up to follow their brother's path. 

_ We still have time.  _

_ We still have each other.  _

Lancelot offered a small smile and reached out his hand. 

“Come on, Bors will get upset if we let his food get cold. He's always been like this.” 

Hector locked up. 

“You don't have to start treating me like family all of the sudden.”

“Oh stop,” Lancelot huffed, “we are family. Just because we couldn’t be close before doesn’t mean you're not my younger sibling. Now come on, you don't have to hunt for my trail anymore, let's get breakfast.” 

Hector took a shaky step forward and grabbed their brother‘s hand tight, afraid of losing him yet again. 

“No one ever told me Bors could cook.”

Lancelot snorted and slid out the doorway, tugging at his sibling's grip, “Don’t tell him I said this, but really he's awful. He always overcooks the meat. No one likes overcooked meat. Oh uh- unless you do. In which case I…” 

Hector laughed and tried to catch up, “God, no.” 


End file.
